Title: The Donkey's Owners
Intro: Someone who gave it up simply because "the Lord needs it."
Scripture: Luke 19:28-40.
Reflection
Dear Sisters and Brothers,
"The Lord needs it." – Luke 19:31
Have you ever thought about the people who owned the donkey that Jesus rode into Jerusalem? Probably not. They are among the Bible's most overlooked characters. We do not know their names. We do not know if they were wealthy or poor, young or old, male or female. Scripture tells us almost nothing about them. And yet, without their willingness to give, Palm Sunday might never have happened.
That is what I want us to consider today as we begin our journey through Holy Week. As we follow Jesus from this triumphant entrance to the cross and ultimately to the empty tomb, let us start by reflecting on these unnamed, unsung heroes who made the triumphal entry possible by simply saying "yes" when the Lord needed something they had.
Picture the scene with me. It is nearly Passover in Jerusalem. The city is buzzing with pilgrims from across the land. Jesus and his disciples approach a village, likely Bethphage or Bethany, and he gives two of his followers very specific instructions:
"Go to the village ahead of you, and as you enter it, you will find a colt tied there, which no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, 'Why are you untying it?' say, 'The Lord needs it.'" (Luke 19:30-31)
Can you imagine being those disciples? "Excuse me, we are just going to take this valuable animal that does not belong to us. The Lord needs it." It sounds almost like divine theft! But Jesus knew exactly what would happen. He knew the owners would agree.
And that is precisely what happened. The disciples found the colt just as Jesus said. When they began untying it, the owners asked why, and when the disciples explained that the Lord needed it, they let it go without argument.
Why did they do this? We are not told. Perhaps they were secret followers of Jesus. Maybe they had heard his teachings or witnessed his miracles. Or perhaps they simply responded to an unexpected divine appointment—a moment when God asked something of them, and they said yes.
What happens next is famous. Jesus rides that never-before-ridden colt into Jerusalem while crowds spread their cloaks on the road and wave palm branches, shouting, "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!" (Luke 19:38)
It was the fulfillment of Zechariah's prophecy: "Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey." (Zechariah 9:9)
The Messiah had come, just as foretold—riding on a donkey that belonged to someone else. Someone who gave it up simply because "the Lord needs it."
But have you ever considered what might have happened if those owners had refused?
"No, sorry. This colt is valuable. We need it for our business. We have been training it. Do you know how much a young, unridden donkey is worth? Find another animal."
Had they said that, how would Palm Sunday have unfolded? Would Jesus have found another way to fulfill the prophecy? Surely he would have. God's plans do not ultimately depend on our cooperation. But those unnamed owners would have missed being part of one of history's most significant events. They would have missed their moment.
The donkey in Jesus' day was not just a pet or a symbol. It was essential technology—the equivalent of a car, truck, and tractor combined. People used donkeys for transportation, for carrying goods to market, for agricultural work. And this particular donkey was young, unridden, in its prime—when its value was highest.
Giving it up, even temporarily, was no small sacrifice. It would be like someone today saying, "Take my new truck for a parade through town. I do not know when I will get it back. I do not know what condition it will be in afterward. But if the Lord needs it, it is yours."
That is faith in action. That is generosity with purpose.
Now, contrast that response with how we sometimes act in our churches today. We are enthusiastic about spiritual things that do not cost us anything. Like that story about the visiting preacher:
He gets the congregation excited, saying, "This church has really got to walk!" Someone shouts, "Let her walk, preacher!"
He ups the energy: "If this church is going to go, it is got to get up and run!" The response grows: "Let her run, preacher!"
Feeling the momentum, he declares, "If this church is going to go, it is got to really fly!" And with even greater enthusiasm, they shout, "Let her fly, preacher, let her fly!"
Then comes the pivotal moment. The preacher says, "If this church is really going to fly, it is going to need money."
Silence falls. Then someone mumbles, "Let her walk, preacher, let her walk."
Does that sound familiar? We are all for spiritual progress until it requires actual sacrifice. We are happy to see the church grow as long as we do not have to give up our "donkeys"—our resources, our comfort, our time, our pride.
What about you? What is your donkey?
Max Lucado puts it beautifully: "All of us have a donkey. You and I each have something in our lives, which, if given back to God, could, like the donkey, move Jesus and his story further down the road."
Maybe your donkey is a talent—you can sing, teach, organize, encourage, build, design, or cook. Maybe it is a resource—your home, your car, your savings. Maybe it is simply your time or your willingness to be uncomfortable for the sake of the gospel.
Whatever it is, that is your donkey. And here is the truth Lucado reminds us of: "It really does belong to him." The things we call "ours" were never really ours to begin with. We are stewards, not owners. Everything we have, we have received from God.
This truth changes how we respond when we hear "The Lord needs it." It is not God asking for something that is ours. It is God asking us to return something that is always been his.
Throughout Scripture, we see people faced with this decision: Will I give what God asks for?
Think of the widow of Zarephath in 1 Kings 17. During a severe drought, she had just enough flour and oil to make one last meal for herself and her son before they died of starvation. Then Elijah shows up and asks her to make him bread first. What an outrageous request! Yet she did it, and as a result, "The jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry" throughout the famine.
Or consider the little boy in John 6 who gave Jesus his lunch—five small barley loaves and two fish. It was not much, but in Jesus' hands, it fed over 5,000 people. What if he had held back? "Sorry, I am hungry too. This is all I have." He would have missed being part of one of Jesus' most famous miracles.
There is also the poor widow Jesus observed in the temple, who gave two small copper coins—all she had to live on (Mark 12:41-44). Jesus did not stop her saying, "No, you need that more than the temple does." Instead, he praised her, saying she had given more than all the wealthy donors combined.
These stories teach us something profound: God often asks for what we think we cannot afford to give. He asks for our "only," our "last," our "all." Not because he needs our resources—he owns everything already—but because he wants our hearts. He wants our trust.
When God says, "The Lord needs it," it is an invitation to participate in something bigger than ourselves. It is an opportunity to be part of the unfolding of God's plan in the world, just like those anonymous donkey owners on Palm Sunday.
But let us be honest: sometimes we hesitate. Lucado captures this so well when he writes:
"Sometimes I get the impression that God wants me to give him something and sometimes I do not give it because I do not know for sure, and then I feel bad because I have missed my chance. Other times I know he wants something but I do not give it because I am too selfish."
I think we can all relate to that. We feel that nudge, that whisper: "The Lord needs it." But we rationalize. We make excuses. We pretend we did not hear.
"God could not possibly be asking for that."
"Someone else has more to give than I do."
"I will give later, when I am more financially secure."
"I have worked hard for this—it is mine to enjoy."
And in those moments of hesitation or refusal, we miss our chance to be part of God's work. We miss our Palm Sunday moment.
What might happen if we said yes instead? What if, like those donkey owners, we simply released what God asked for without argument, without condition?
Lucado imagines it this way: "Other times, too few times, I hear him and I obey him and feel honored that a gift of mine would be used to carry Jesus to another place."
That is the heart of generosity—feeling honored that something of ours could be used to carry Jesus to another place. To make him known. To reveal his love. To extend his kingdom.
I think of my friend Sarah. She felt God asking her to open her home for a Bible study, but she hesitated. Her house was not fancy. She was not a trained teacher. But eventually, she said yes. That small group has now grown into three groups, and lives have been transformed because she gave her "donkey"—her home and her hospitality.
Or consider Thomas, an accountant in our church. He felt prompted to offer his financial skills to a struggling local ministry one afternoon a week. That "donkey"—his professional expertise and time—helped that ministry reorganize their finances, secure grant funding, and expand their outreach to homeless families in our community.
When we give what God asks for—whether it is money, time, skill, or something else entirely—we become part of a story much bigger than ourselves. We become like those unnamed donkey owners who played a crucial role in fulfilling ancient prophecy.
But sometimes we wonder if our small contributions really matter. Again, Lucado captures this doubt: "And still other times I wonder if my little deeds today will make a difference in the long haul."
It is easy to think that what we have to offer is too insignificant to matter. After all, what is one donkey in the grand scheme of redemption? What is one talent, one hour, one dollar in the work of God's kingdom?
But God specializes in using the small, the overlooked, the seemingly insignificant. A shepherd boy becomes Israel's greatest king. A baby in a manger becomes the world's Savior. Five loaves and two fish feed thousands. A cross—an instrument of shame and defeat—becomes the symbol of victory and hope.
And a borrowed donkey carries the King of kings into Jerusalem.
Your "donkey" matters more than you know. The Lord needs it not because he lacks resources, but because he chooses to work through willing hearts and open hands. He invites us into partnership with him. He gives us the honor of participation in his purposes.
Think about this: we know about Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem because it is recorded in all four Gospels. It is a central part of the Holy Week narrative. Millions of Christians worldwide celebrate Palm Sunday every year. But we do not know the names of the people who owned that donkey.
They did not do what they did for recognition or reward. They simply heard "The Lord needs it," and they said yes. Their names are not in Scripture, but their act of faith is. Their generosity helped fulfill prophecy and proclaim Jesus as King.
What greater legacy could anyone have?
As we approach Holy Week and remember Jesus' journey to the cross, let us also remember those unnamed donkey owners. Let us remember that no act of obedience is too small to matter in God's economy. Let us remember that we all have something the Lord needs.
In 2 Corinthians 9:7, Paul writes, "Each of you should give what you have decided in your heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."
Those donkey owners gave cheerfully, without reluctance or compulsion. They understood something fundamental: when the Lord asks for something, it is always for a greater purpose. It is always part of a bigger story. It is always an opportunity, not a burden.
So I ask you again: What is your donkey? What has God entrusted to you that he might be asking you to release for his purposes?
Maybe it is something tangible—your home could host a small group, your car could transport someone in need, your savings could support a missionary.
Maybe it is a skill or talent—your voice could lead worship, your hands could build or repair, your mind could teach or mentor.
Maybe it is simply your presence—your willingness to sit with someone who is hurting, to listen to someone who is lonely, to stand with someone who is struggling.
Whatever it is, remember: "Its Lord is in need." Not "the" Lord, but "its" Lord—recognizing that what you have already belongs to him.
When Jesus entered Jerusalem on that borrowed donkey, he was beginning his final journey to the cross. He was moving toward the ultimate act of giving—laying down his life for the salvation of the world. As John 3:16 reminds us, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."
God gave his most precious gift for us. What will we give for him?
Those anonymous donkey owners will never know, this side of heaven, the full significance of their simple act of generosity. And we may never know the full impact of our giving either. But God knows. And that is enough.
So when you hear "The Lord needs it," do not hesitate. Do not calculate. Do not rationalize. Remember those unnamed heroes of Palm Sunday who simply said yes. Remember that no gift is too small in God's hands. Remember that you too are a crucial actor in the unfolding of God's plan.
The Lord has need of what you have. Will you, like those donkey owners, let it go?
Let us pray:
Lord Jesus, you who gave everything for us, help us to hold loosely what you have entrusted to us. When we hear "The Lord needs it," give us the faith to say yes without hesitation. Make us like those unnamed donkey owners—willing to play our part in your unfolding story, however small it may seem. Thank you for the privilege of participating in your work. May what we give—our resources, our talents, our very lives—carry you to places where you need to be known and loved.
May the heart of Jesus live in the hearts of all…amen.
